


Staying Power

by Violetwilson



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Ben Solo is Not Nice, Coercion, F/M, Han is a father figure to Rey, Hate Sex, Lack of Explicit Consent, Leia is dead before the story starts, Mentions of Pregnancy, Misogyny, No Pregnancy, No baby, Oral Sex, Palpatine is a bad grandfather who yells, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Rich people being assholes, ben “surprise i am your boyfriend now” solo, childhood friend turned villain boyfriend, classist attitudes, dead dove do not eat, implied that other people might hear them, light neck gripping, morally gray Han, no gagging, non-con, rey “what???” palpatine, serious violation of boundaries, sex in semi-public spaces, the bad guys win
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetwilson/pseuds/Violetwilson
Summary: She thought staying at Skywalker House for a summer would solve her problems.It didn’t..[mind the tags]
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 40
Kudos: 280





	Staying Power

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry lol

She should have seen it coming. In retrospect, she felt like an idiot.

All those times he pulled her onto his lap when she and her father went to the Solo estate for Christmas. All those times he brushed his hand across her cheek. Those innocent touches. Insisting on opening the door for her. The jewelry he gave her, smirking. 

But he was a family friend. She was 20, he was 22. He was always texting girls right in front of her. It never seemed like he was into her. Not seriously, anyway. It felt more like he was looking at her for something, and not finding it there. Waiting on some inevitable something that she was certain would never happen. Which bothered her, sure, but not _that_ much. He probably just saw her as a family friend, not a romantic object, so it was easy for her to move him out of the sphere of potential romantic avenues. Plus, he was an entitled prick, always showing up late to dinner and joking around a little _too_ easily with her grandfather. 

Ben was just Ben, and she was just Rey. 

She was just Rey, and he was just Ben, and they were just family friends. 

She hadn’t seen it coming.

Had she? 

* * *

Rey’s hands were shaking the night she called Han. Downstairs, she could hear her father slam the door to his study, and her eyes burned with unshed tears at the awful things they’d said to each other. They couldn’t go on like this. 

Han always said she could ask him for anything. 

He picked up at the first ring, his deep, gruff voice instantly soothing her. “Well, well, Rey Palpatine. How are ya, kid.”

“Hi, Uncle Han,” Rey whispered. Kneeling on the floor next to her bed, she had never felt smaller. 

His voice was instantly gentle. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” 

She lost it. Spilled the whole thing. She couldn’t make it a whole summer here. Not with grandfather acting like this. She couldn’t handle another lecture about how she didn’t need an art degree, that she would shame the family. She couldn’t handle him comparing her to her mother. 

Han was silent. “I know how he gets. He just needs some time to cool down. Why don’t you come and stay with us for a while? Give him some time to clear his head and realize what an ass he’s being.”

Rey gripped her phone, brushing a tear away with the hem of her sleep shirt. “Really?” 

Han’s voice was warm. “It’ll be good for all of us. Besides, it’s not the same in the house without Leia. We could use a little of your sunshine in this creaky old place.” 

She packed up that night, left a note in her room for her father, and drove her Jag to the Skywalker Estate. 

_Just for a while,_ she promised her father. 

* * *

The Skywalker House was _old_ money. Marble columns old money. In that sense, Rey felt quite at home in it. Growing up without a mother like she had, her grandfather sent her to see Leia with some regularity. Seeking a positive female influence, no doubt. After Leia died, Han inherited everything, and he didn’t really fit into the gothic, wood-paneled elegance of the place. He struck Rey as more a James Dean type, not so much Mr. Mustard in the library with a candlestick. 

But despite this, Han was, as ever, the kind of father to her that she wished she had. 

When she knocked on the front door and was admitted, half-soaked in the rain and clutching one meager suitcase, he didn’t ask her even one question. He just showed her to a guest room with a big desk for her to work on her thesis, and let her sob her sorry heart out in his arms. 

She was safe here. She was sure of it.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, her father turned up. Han told her very firmly to go up to her room and let him handle it. Not at all keen to see her father after the things he’d said to her the day before, Rey didn’t argue. She meant to go to her room and shut the door. She really did, but she’d always been an awful snoop, and she was desperately curious as to how exactly Han planned on getting her father to back off. Privately, she didn’t think anyone would be able to stop him. So she padded quietly down the second floor hallways lined with bedrooms until she was within hearing distance of the main staircase and the foyer below. Rey could easily hear the sound of male raised voices in the foyer arguing.

Her grandfather’s voice was like ice. It layered over the rolling boulder roughness of Han’s tones. 

“—she is _my_ daughter, you have no right—” 

“—called me crying. You’re out of control. She’ll be better off with us.” 

What did ‘us’ mean? Leia had been gone for nearly two years now. Maybe Han was forgetting that, in the heat of the moment. Love like that never left you, she supposed. 

“Like hell—” hissed her father. 

“She can help him,” Han said, very firmly. “It’s for the best. And she can help me plan the charity auction.” 

There was a long silence. Her father said something in a voice so quiet that she couldn’t hear it. Han answered back in a tone just as hushed, and then she heard them walking out of the foyer towards the library. Much later, as Rey waited at the top of the stairs curled up with an old mystery paperback, she heard them come out again. Her father was laughing, his tone good humored and easy in a way it _never_ was with her. Outside, night had fallen. 

“Well, take care, Han. And good luck.”

“I’ll need it,” Han said, and they both laughed, and the door shut. 

* * *

It was later that night that Ben turned up.

* * *

She was halfway asleep when she heard her bedroom door open. It was the quiet, expensive click of the well-oiled latch that caught her attention. The book splayed open on her chest fell off to one side as she sat up, clutching the blanket and flicking her reading light on.

The dim light cast a long slant of light across the room, illuminating the figure of Ben Solo standing in her door. He didn’t look at all apologetic to be there, his dark eyes and strong brow set in a firm line. It felt like a long time since she’d seen him, and maybe it was because the context was so different, or because she was in his house, but he looked different. More focused, somehow. Polite, but serious. 

“Ben?” she whispered, because she had to say something. She should have felt surprised to see him there, but she didn’t. 

“Han said you’re staying for the summer.”

His voice was a low purr. It made her toes curl and her fingers clenched, and the way he was looking at her felt like it meant something, but she didn’t know what. 

“Well, not the whole summer,” she demurred. “Maybe a week or two.”

Ben smiled. It wasn’t exactly friendly, though, and he looked at her like had said something funny. 

In the dim light and his white shirt, he looked faintly ethereal, but that was the only part of him that looked delicate. Ben had always been tall, but in the past few years that tallness shifted into broadness. He was a big guy, much taller than Han. Maybe that was why he made her feel strange. Some hindbrain knowledge that he was bigger and stronger than she was, and that she was on his turf. 

_No._ Han said she could make herself at home. Said she could stay as long as she liked. She had every right to be here, and Ben Solo wouldn’t come around with his cryptic smile and make her feel unwelcome. Hell, at this point Rey was probably closer to Han than Ben was. 

“Goodnight, Ben,” Rey said, keeping her voice firm. 

Ben didn’t leave, though. He stood in the doorway, looking at her with that lazy, casual smile on his face. He ran a hand through his hair, and his biceps bulged. God, he probably worked out in a pretentious, fancy gym. 

When he crossed the room to her bed, though, thoughts about his pretentious gym habits evaporated and all she could think about was that Han turned off his hearing aids at night, which was a strange thing to think because Ben would never, he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ — 

“Good night, sweetheart,” he said, and leaned over her bed, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. She froze, the feel of his body so close to hers ringing every alarm bell in her body, every cell trilling with a sense that danger was near. 

He smelled like cedar, and when he pulled away and took in her frozen expression, he chuckled. The beam of her reading light didn’t touch him now. He was right next to her in the dark. 

“Relax,” he whispered. “I’m not here for that.”

But as he walked away, all Rey could hear was the word he left unsaid between them.

* * *

Han was very easy to beat at chess when he had two glasses of whiskey in him, and Rey was shameless in taking advantage. 

“Checkmate,” she said, placing her piece down with a smug click.

Han, backlit by the fire, narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t let this go to your head.” 

Rey made an innocent, _who, me?_ face just as Ben walked in the room. He had a tablet in one hand and he was wearing pajama pants. They’d fallen into an easy truce the past week, him and her. He barely looked at her except to smile, occasionally. Or to brush his arm on hers as they passed in the hall. 

He said he was home to get a break before he started his new job in the fall. “I just want to relax,” he had insisted one morning as he made her an americano she hadn’t asked for. “Is that so suspicious?” 

Privately, she felt like it was. (She took the americano, though, and it was good.) 

“Ah, there’s my son,” Han said, gesturing at Ben, who sat down on the enormous leather couch next to Rey. _Right_ next to Rey. She ignored him and scooted to the very edge of the couch, her bare feet pressed against the heat-warmed prickliness of the persian carpet under her feet as she leaned to the coffee table to reset the chess board. 

“Losing at chess, dad?” 

“She’s cleverer than she looks, that one.”

Ben dragged his hand lazy up the length of Rey’s spine, and the heat and the faint softness that her own half-glass of bourbon lent everything, it felt like he had scattered her with bright, sharp confetti. 

“Is that right, sweetheart?” 

_That_ nickname made her turn around and glare at him. “Ben—” 

“He needs a drink,” Han grumbled, getting to his feet. His age was showing, slightly, and it looked like it hurt him a little to stand. Rey frowned, worried in spite of herself. Han made for the door, no doubt heading next door to the billiards room to go fix his son a drink. 

“Han,” Rey protested. “Let me.”

“No, no, to the victor go the spoils,” said Han, holding his hands up in defeat as he walked to the room. The sound of the door shutting felt very loud. 

_What?_

Ben’s voice was a few inches closer than it had been before. “You worry about him.” 

Rey stiffened. “He’s not as young as he once was.” 

Planting her hands on either side of her on the couch, Rey was going to make a dramatic exit herself, but she never got the chance. Ben got his arms around her waist so fast she almost didn’t realize what was happening until he was dragging her back and against him. _Onto his lap._

“Ben,” she squawked, not caring how inelegant she sounded. 

Ben wrapped his arms around her waist, the heat of him surrounding her as he mussed her hair. It was almost a friendly gesture, _almost_ the kind of thing two friends might do to razz each other. 

His voice was quiet and pleased. “I think it’s sweet you want to look after him.” 

“Not like you were going to do it,” she grunted, squirming in an attempt to extricate herself from his arms. 

“Why would I, when I have you?” 

She smacked him on the only place she could reach, on the top of his thigh. His reaction was instant. One second his hold was firm but playful, and the next his hand was snaking up her body and holding her face in a tight grip. She held very still, quitting her squirming immediately as his breath began to come in shorter bursts. 

“Now, now,” he said, his voice even lower than before. “Don’t hit.” 

She smacked him, clumsy because she couldn’t move well the way he was holding her arms. “You’re hurting me,” she groused, squirming against his tight grip.

Ben only hooked her leg over his knee, neatly parting her legs without loosening his grip. “There,” he said, settling her back on his lap. “Who’s hurting you?” 

The arm he had over her torso loosened, and Rey exhaled shakily, thinking he’d had his fun and he was going to let her up. But all he did was lower that same arm so that his fingers were trazing lazy circles on the bare skin of her thigh, inching up higher and higher as he kept her still by her neck. 

“What— what are you doing?” she whispered, a mix of helplessness, panic, and fear swelling together. This wasn’t the kind of thing friends did to each other. 

“What do you mean?” he said, his lazy circles inching closer and closer to the hem of her shorts. They were an old pair, thin enough that when one of his fingers traced over the edge of the material at her hip, she felt it as clearly as if he’d touched her naked skin. 

His perusal was lazy and unhurried, like he didn’t have a care in the world that he was fondling her in the library when his dad could come back and see them like this. Ben’s hand moved up, stroking her neck, and up to run across her lips. 

That thought sent her anxiety spiking through the roof, and deciding that she was already in too deep as it was, she jerked her head and bit down on Ben’s finger where he was holding her face. Ben let go of her, and then quick as a flash she was leaping off his lap and stumbling for the door. 

She made it halfway to the door before he caught her, yanking her back against his body with a force that shocked her. He pulled her around until he had her wrapped in his arms, their bodies in the shape of two people hugging. But it wasn’t a hug. Han hugged her sometimes, and it was _never_ like this. 

Swallowing hard, she looked up into his eyes. His expression was vivid.

“From now on, biting is not allowed,” he said calmly, the pad of his thumb tracing up and down her back. “But I’ll let you have that one, since you looked so pretty with my finger in your mouth.” 

She could feel the outline of Ben’s erection through his pants. _He was enjoying this. What the fuck?_

She would have said something clever. Or maybe she would have elbowed him in the balls. But she never got the chance, because at that moment Han walked in holding a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. His eyes softened when he saw the two of them hugging. 

Ben smiled, patting her back, and whispering over her head, “She’s upset about her grandfather.” 

Han smiled fondly. His son, comforting their ward for the summer. How picturesque. How innocent. Rey pulled out of his arms, and this time Ben let her go easily, watching her with those panther eyes of his as she stalked for the door. 

“Goodnight, Han,” she murmured. 

“Goodnight, kiddo,” Han said, sitting back down in his armchair. 

* * *

She fell into an uneasy sleep that night, tossing and turning in a half-doze that felt less like rest and more like work. When she woke up for the third time, she realized with dismay it was still only one A.M. The night was taking forever, and she knew it was Ben’s fault. 

Every time she started to drift off, she heard his voice in her head, felt the way he touched her. It had been so effortless for him, like he’d spread her legs and felt her up a million times. If she hadn’t gotten up, would he have kept going? Slid his hand up her shirt? Down her pants? Bent her over the couch— 

The sound of the door creaking open sapped her of any lingering sleep that might have been hanging around. On instinct, she lunged for the bedside lamp, but in dismay she realized that nothing was happening when she flicked the light switch. 

It clicked, but nothing happened. 

Rey turned to face the dimness of the room, her eyes adjusting as she tried to see him in the dark.

“Get out,” she whispered. 

When he moved, she could finally identify him in the dark, his shadowy figure approaching like something out of a fairytale. She felt the weight of him as he sat down on the bed, saw the outline of his body as he moved towards her. 

“You never wished me goodnight,” Ben said. 

She shoved him as hard as she could, her hands meeting solid muscle. “I _don’t_ wish you a good anything,” she said. Her voice sounded whispery in the darkness. 

She didn’t see his hand until it was too late, the warmth of it grabbing her hip, tugging her towards him. “Do you know what’s odd? I never sleep well in this house.” 

“What are you doing?” she hissed as his body slotted against hers, spooning her. 

“When I inherit, I think I’ll renovate the whole thing,” he said drowsily, yawning as he wrapped an arm around her.

“Ben, get _out._ ”

“What do you think? I think it needs new carpet. And thicker doors. That lock.”

And he pressed a kiss against the hollow behind her ear, and Rey couldn’t think of one thing to say to that. He got up before her, pressing a comfortable, easy kiss against her temple before he padded out.

Rey waited until the door shut before she dared to move. He hadn’t touched her, hadn’t done anything more than hold her. But still. He shouldn’t have done it. Even if she _had_ slept better. He hadn’t asked, and he’d been so possessive, so clingy. 

She locked the door the next night, and every night after, but it never mattered. When she woke up in the morning, there he was, his arm caging her in, his mouth curved in a little smile as he kissed her good morning.

“It’s alright if you need time,” he said, stretching his massive arms. “I can wait.” 

* * *

The bathroom was the next place he started finding her. 

She was putting on makeup, making a mental list of the chapters she needed to read to prepare for her art history class next year, trying not to think about Ben pressing sleepy kisses against her neck this morning as she tried to tell herself that this was _fine,_ this was just him having piss-poor boundaries and being a horny asshole, when she heard the door swing open. In walked Ben, shirtless. He nudged her aside with his hip, hogging the mirror as he turned on the hot water and began to splash his face with it.

“This is my bathroom,” she snapped. 

He turned off the water and looked at her. “Guess I got lost.” 

“I _wish_ you’d get lost,” she muttered, turning back to use the little mirror in her compact since Ben was hogging the mirror. 

In her peripheral vision, she saw him roll his eyes. Then, with no warning, he grabbed her by the hip and gently maneuvered her so she was standing between him and the counter. He was tall enough to see himself over her head, and she tried not to react to how _very_ near he was to her. 

Deciding that playing it cool was the best move— _what if he realized the effect he had on her? What even_ was _the effect he had on her?—_ she turned back to applying her lip gloss and tried to steady her shaking hand. 

Ben stared at her in the mirror, watching the movement of her hands in a way that made her feel like a pinned butterfly under glass. 

“I like that color,” he said quietly. 

“Thank you.” She closed the tube with a little snap. “I’m going to go use your bathroom, since _you’re_ obviously not—”

His arm barred her way, and she spun around so they were face to face, her backed against the counter, him leaning over her.

“Say that again,” he said. His body was so close to hers, and all she could think about was that she needed to get away from him. He was too close, he didn’t respect her boundaries, he would have kept going last night if she hadn’t stopped him.

“Say what?” 

“Say ‘thank you’ like you did.” 

It wasn’t optional. This wasn’t like the kisses in the morning. This was Ben at full strength. She stood there like that, peering up at him, frightened by the tension in his body. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, clinging to her courage to keep holding his gaze. Ben closed his eyes and a quiet, pleased noise slipped out from his teeth.

“Good girl.” 

She inhaled sharply as the words fell between him. _Oh, this was much worse than “sweetheart.”_

“Can I go now?” she asked, clutching that tube of gloss like it could protect her from whatever was happening here. 

“Hm,” he murmured. “No.” 

His kiss came out of nowhere. One second his eyes were closed and he looked like he was going to unclench, to relax and let her go, and the next second they were open and he bent his head over her and pressed a hot, ardent kiss to her mouth.

He tasted like toothpaste and his lips were soft and unyielding. 

It frightened her, the intensity of it, and she knew she should bite him or shove him or something, but all she could manage was to stand there and let the kiss do what he meant it to: dominate her. His grunt was low and primal as he lifted her up onto the counter, breaking this kiss long enough to settle her roughly, so her legs hung off the edge and dangled uselessly as he positioned himself between them. 

“You were right to come here,” he said conversationally, bending at the knees to reach her breasts, kissing them through her thin t-shirt with a surprising tenderness. “This had to happen sometime. I’m glad it was here.”

She gasped as his mouth made contact with the sensitive flesh, her hands gripping his shoulder, her fingers digging into his skin, trying half-heartedly to push him away. 

“Wha—” 

He pushed the hem of her shirt up, exposing her breasts to the bathroom air so they pebbled up. “Perfect. Perfect for me.”

And he kissed her there, too, so tender and careful that she forgot to be afraid of him, that she forgot that she would never have asked him for this, that it was a terrible idea. The lap of his tongue, the warmth of his breath, the grip he had on her parted thighs, it felt nice. 

When he pushed her shorts down, crouched in front of her, and pressed his mouth to her cunt, however, the fear came back. This was different, a quantum leap from possessive caresses. He had to steady her hips with both hands as she bucked and twitched against the sensations he moved against her. But he was good at it, and before long she felt spasms of pleasure like ripples of water spreading through her, and she forgot to feel afraid again.

In a little bit, she would hate him for this. But not yet.

“There you go,” Ben said, lifting his mouth from her to smile gently as he ran a finger along the seam of her, so gently.

Rey bit back a sob as he inserted one finger, his thumb massaging her clit, keeping a steady circuit of pleasure flowing through her as she got used to having him inside her. He started a steady rhythm, in and out, in and out, his thumb working a clever rhythm as he murmured soft, gentle words into the sensitive skin of her thigh.

“Yes, there you go, sweetheart, just like that, good girl,” as she bit down on her clenched fist against the panting, desperate feeling that was surging inside her. She didn’t want it to be like this. Not in the bathroom, with him so smug, so _happy_ with her. 

Ben’s voice was a commanding growl. “This is a good thing, Rey. It’s happening exactly as it should.” 

He crooked a second finger inside her and that was all it took. 

She came apart around him, the sound of his sweet-nothings coating her ears as she slumped against the mirror, her cheeks flushed, panting as he pulled his finger out of her and grabbed her gently by the back of the neck, leaning down and pressing a kiss on her mouth. 

She stared at him dazedly, trying to think of something to say.

Fuck you?

I hate you?

“Well?” he asked, his voice expectant. Patient. She knew what he wanted. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, and his smile was as gentle as the dawn outside.

* * *

“You two seem to be getting along better these days,” Han said casually as the three of them walked around the back garden. 

“I think Rey’s settling in nicely,” Ben said, giving her that smile she _hated_ behind Han’s back. She turned her face away, furious. 

“Course she is,” Han said gruffly. “And she’s been a big help with this charity auction.”

Rey willed herself to stop blushing so she could look Han in the eyes. “All I do is mail envelopes and sort RSVPs, Han.” 

“Important work,” Han insisted. “Don’t discount it. We’re going to raise a lot of money for charity at this fundraiser, Rey. That’s not nothing.” 

“Hard to believe it’s been three weeks since you got here,” Han said. “But time flies when you’re having fun, I suppose.” 

Had it really been three weeks? It felt like days. Rey looked away, her eyes focused on her boots as they trekked through the grass. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about going home. She had. But grandfather was so _angry_ at her, and he hadn’t called or texted her even once. What would she even have to go back to? An empty house? Being called a shame to the family? She couldn’t go back to that. She wouldn’t. Just a little longer, and she’d go back to the city to start the new semester. Things would get better. She’d convince grandfather to give her an allowance again, or she’d get a job— 

That was it. She’d get a job. Doing anything. Maybe that nice professor would let her help out in the lab. Maybe— 

Ben put his arm around Rey’s shoulder, slowing her pace down until they were walking side by side. He pressed a kiss onto her temple. Overhead, a songbird took flight, calling alarm trills as it fled into the forest. 

\--

A week later, and she was upstairs in the reading loft at the top of the third floor landing. There was a door to the attic and space for a lounge area outside, and nothing else. 

Rey liked reading up there because it was private, and because nobody could sneak up on her. The stairs were loud and old, creaking underfoot, and she knew that if Ben came looking for her she would have advanced warning. She should have realized that if she liked them because nobody could go up them unnoticed, so would Ben.

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the bottom of the stairs. Rey slammed her book shut and got to her feet just in time to see Ben as he climbed the stairs and came to a stop. He looked handsome in his dark jeans and his white shirt, his hair tousled and casual. 

“There you are,” he said. “I have something I need to ask you.” 

He moved easily to the couch, sitting down with his legs wide, taking up as much space as possible. He patted the couch next to him. “Come, please join me.”

Intensely wary, she perched directly across from him on the edge of the coffee table. For a second he looked like he might argue, but as she uncrossed her arms, he softened. She should go. She shouldn’t _be_ here, alone like this. 

“Would you go with me to Han’s charity thing? I need a date,” he said, his eyes cool. 

“Oh, sure,” Rey said, taken aback partly by the question, and partly that she had been assuming they’d go together. “I think I have a dress that will work.”

Ben nodded, smiling a real, genuine smile. “Good. I want people to know we’re together.”

This, though, brought her up short. Together? Who said anything about them being together? She was staying at his house, sure, and he touched her body whenever he felt like it, but he thought this was just Ben being an asshole. Not… a declaration. Her jaw went slack. Ben’s eyes narrowed, like _he_ was the surprised one. 

“Rey, my intentions were always honorable towards you,” he said, reaching across the space between them and putting a hand on her knee. Nothing about his intentions had proved honorable. 

Rey straightened her back. “I barely know you.”

Ben shook his head, inching forward on the couch. “But you do. We're the same, you and I. Your family, my family. It’s a good match.”

“Match?” Rey squeaked. He couldn’t be thinking about _marriage–_

“It would make sense. Consolidation in every sense in the word.”

“I think you want submission, more than consolidation,” she managed, her brain tripping over the idea being with him in a real sense _._

Ben’s caress on her knee was gentle and relentless. “Surely you saw this coming. Everyone else did.”

She shook her head, her brain spinning, thinking of her father’s affection for the family, the way they’d always been put together growing up, that odd look in Leia’s eyes sometimes. 

Ben shook his head. “Loook, I know it’s a lot to adjust to. We’ll need time to get the paperwork sorted out, and a ring, and planning everything–” 

She stood up so fast she sent the coffee table scooting backwards with a grating thud as she put space between him and her. Marriage? Her brain skittered ahead, coming to rest at a vision of herself in a wedding dress, his mouth between her thighs, smiling that patronizing smile at her, giving her everything and nothing at the same time. Oh god, he would want a _baby._

“Ben.” 

He stood up, sighing. “I did this all wrong. You’re getting worked up.” 

He crossed to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, rocking her back and forth. “You don’t have to do anything,” he said soothingly. “I’ll take care of it. It’ll be easy.” 

“For _you,_ ” she managed. Why wasn’t she arguing with him? Why wasn’t she running from this damn house? 

It was almost a relief when he put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her down to her knees. Her thoughts floated through her brain, distant. She didn’t want to marry him, but maybe she had always known that she would. When he pushed his cock in her mouth, she knew it was not coming out until he got what he wanted. 

Ben put his hand in her hair and gently fisted his hand, not hurting her, but making it clear he could. He held her fast, just holding himself in her mouth. 

“Remember the rule?” Ben said.

She blinked up with him and tried to pull her mouth off him, but he just smiled and held her fast. She thought back to their previous conversations. Rule? What rule? It was hard to focus when he was all she could taste, all she could see, all she could feel. His expression was patient, like an understanding lover. Finally, she remembered. The library. His little comment. He was going to make her say it. 

With his cock still in her mouth, Rey shut her eyes and slurred around his dick, “No biting.”

“That’s right,” he sighed, gently nudging his cock deeper into her throat. 

And she took it, because she could, and it felt like she was supposed to. 

“That’s it,” he said gently, rocking his cock into her cheek with slow, practiced movements. “We’ll go slow. You can get used to it.” 

His calm, pleased smile radiated down at her, the salty taste of his cock in her mouth overpowering everything else. She closed her lips around him, deciding to just roll with it. If she could make him come quickly, maybe that would be all he wanted. Maybe he would get her off, too, and make her feel like he did in the bathroom. She could go away somewhere, get in her car and drive, just to think—

“There’s my girl,” he said, and Rey squeezed her eyes shut as the sound of his voice drove out everything else, and shame like a hot wave swelled in her as his praise made her insides jump and her cunt clench. 

After a while of that, her knees ached and her cheeks were flushed and she was wet underneath her skirt and she _just_ wanted to make him come, to make him feel wonderful, and she refused to analyze why, exactly it felt like that. Maybe it could go back to before he ruined everything. 

But just as she thought he was getting close, he pulled himself out of her mouth, drawing in a shuddering breath and reaching down to yank her to her feet. In a smooth motion, he bent her over the back of the loveseat and yanked up her dress.

He chuckled, seeing the wetness between her legs. “What a mess.”

No. Not like this. He didn’t get her like this, bent unceremoniously over a couch. To fuck her for the first time without even looking at her? She wouldn’t let him. They couldn’t start things out this way, it would set a bad precedent.

_It doesn’t mean anything. Don’t think about it._

She kicked him in the shins (he hadn’t forbidden _kicking_ ) and scrambled over the back of the couch, ending up halfway on the seats and halfway on the floor before he grabbed her by the leg and pulled her all the way onto the couch. 

He didn’t seem angry though. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I’m sorry.” And then he pulled her from the couch onto the floor, pressing her back into the carpet as he parted her legs with one knee and pulled her panties down with the other until she was bare to him, looking up into his eyes. 

“Look at me, now,” he said, one arm braced over her head. His expression was so unexpectedly soft, so tender, that she felt tears prick her eyes as he lined himself up and bent to kiss her. 

“Ben,” she whispered. Pleading with him. 

“It was always for you,” he murmured, and pushed himself inside her. 

He was big. She had first-hand knowledge of that, but it was different going inside her like this. Different from taking him down her throat, different from having his finger inside her. Ben let out a muffled grunt as he slid home, a muffled expletive slipping between his lips as he started to move. 

He seemed to go on forever, and it was like she was fixed to that spot, getting fucked, _being_ fucked, by this man who she didn’t truly know and hadn’t chosen. But he kissed her deeply, and when he pulled all the way out and then all the way back in, she whimpered, and he kissed her and told her she would get used to it, and she knew that if she stayed here, she _would_. 

* * *

Nothing was the same after that. He never let her out of his sight, and when she tried to talk to him about it he hushed her, sometimes kissing her, sometimes eating her out, sometimes fucking her in hard, tender strokes that had her biting her cheek at the cruelty of it all. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” she panted as he bounced her like a ragdoll on his cock. She felt drugged, exhausted. 

“Oh, poor thing, are you tired?” he said, and flipped her over so she was on her knees, her face pillowed in a fur throw. “Here, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

As she orgasmed, he pressed hot kisses against her face, her back, holding himself inside her until he found his own release, crooning her name. 

* * *

She tried to leave Skywalker House the same way she’d arrived: at night, and in a hurry. She wasn’t running away. She just needed some space to think, space to process. Someplace where Ben wasn’t lurking around every corner, giving her an orgasm every time she tried to have a coherent conversation with him. 

So when she snuck down the main staircase with her weekender packed up, she was desperately hoping that he wouldn’t catch her. Not that he would try and stop her.

...would he? 

She got halfway to the front door before she heard him. “Rey. What are you doing?” 

She turned around, her expression guilty. But she’d prepared for this outcome. “I’m going to get a dress I left at home.”

His frown deepened. “You are home.” 

“Well, I mean, I wanted to see about reconciling with grandfather.” 

He was on the other side of the foyer, the door to the library ajar. There was a fire going, and music playing. His expression was calm, “At this hour?”

“Well, I told grandfather I’d be back by the evening,” she demurred. To emphasize this, she picked her bag up. It felt heavier than it did before, as if the weight of his glare had filled her with lead. 

“I spoke with your father two days ago, and he went to Martha’s Vineyard,” Ben said coolly. “Took the staff with him.” 

Rey blinked. “How—”

Ben took a casual step forward, and Rey felt the movement all the way down to her toes. His eyes roved up and down her body, looking at her sensible Keds and her favorite skirt and her optimistically floraled shirt. He looked at her like he always looked at her; like he liked what he saw and expected to keep looking as long as he wanted.

“Plus, you’re my date to the party tonight,” Ben said, cocking a brow. “You wouldn’t leave me in a lurch, would you?” 

And then he was on her, his big hand snaking around her waist, his other sliding down her arm until he had her duffle in a firm grip. For a moment he didn’t do anything, just held her like that, pinned at two points. 

“You wouldn’t leave me, would you?” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her jaw. 

“I just want some space,” she managed, the heat of his kiss going straight to a soft, vulnerable part of her. 

“The house is quite large, you have all the space you need,” he mumbled, backing her up as his hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, slipping underneath to cup her breasts. 

She shoved him. Hard. Ben took a startled step backwards, his brows raising. They stared at each other, locked in a standoff. It was now or never. 

“Oh, Rey,” Ben said, shaking his head. “You poor thing.” 

And then he closed the gap between them and kissed her, his tongue snaking into her mouth, his grip on her waist tight, his fingers digging into her hand as he pried her suitcase from her fingers. She fought him, holding onto the handle, trying not to let him wrench it from her, but he kissed her harder, backing her up until her back was flat against the massive oak banister.

Then the suitcase was out of her hand, tossed across the room, and his free hand went up to the sensitive skin between her thighs. Rey squirmed, panting, her eyes desperate to see over his shoulder.

_If she could just get to her suitcase—_

“Look at me,” Ben said, pulling away from his ravishment of her mouth. “You look at _me._ ” 

She did. It was a mistake. It was always a mistake to look at him when he was like this. His eyes were fiery, cold in the way that only flame can be. When his fingers pushed the fine silk of her panties to the side, she shivered. His thumb found her clit, his forefinger lightly tracing the seam of her cunt.

“You could never leave me,” he whispered, bending his head to kiss her neck. “Not you.” 

Rey arched her back, biting her lip, trying not to moan. “Ben. What if someone _sees_.”

“Everyone knows,” he mumbled, his voice slurred as he pressed hot kisses against her neck. 

His knee came between her legs, pushing her feet aside, widening her stance to give him more room to—

“Ben,” she squeaked, the thick intrusion of his fingers sending a scattering of sparks up her spine. “Please—” 

But that just made him groan, his erection swelling where he was pressing it into her hip. “You sound so pretty when you say please. God, how could give up what we have, Rey?” 

She couldn’t think of the answer. It existed, she was sure it existed somewhere, the way that her suitcase was so close and yet so far. She would never get to it. He would never let her.

“Oh god,” she whispered. 

“I’m going to keep you,” he said, “And you’re going to say sorry, aren’t you?”

“P-please,” she moaned, the feeling of a second finger pushing into her robbing her of coherent thought. The pad of his thumb made quick circles, and she had the distant thought that he was probably rubbing his own name into her, over and over again. 

She was so wet, the warm feeling of herself spilling onto his hand as he took what he wanted from her, blocking the door, blocking _everything._ When he pulled his fingers out and unzipped his pants, her body was on autopilot. 

“Put your arms around my neck,” Ben grunted, and she obeyed him instantly, clinging to him as he pushed his cock into her. The feeling of being split open on his cock, her back against the bannister, her arms around his neck, was almost too much. 

She gasped as he bottomed out, one of his arms holding her under her ass, the other braced against the wall. “You’ll never leave me,” he said, breathing hard. Not moving inside her, just pinning her there. With her arms around his neck, she could finally see behind him. 

Her suitcase was there, abandoned and strewn open on the floor, her meager possessions like the aftermath of a raucous party on the persian carpet. And in the distance, she saw the quick motion of a door across the hall shutting, and someone behind it snickering as they retreated. 

She buried her face in his neck. “Not here, take me in my room.”

Ben paused, stilling inside her. “Sweetheart. If I wanted to take you in our bedroom, that’s what I’d be doing.” 

And then he started to fuck her. His cock wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t take time with her like he usually did. No tender kisses. No confident movements on her clit. No murmured words of affection. Ben fucked her into the bannister as fast and as hard as he wanted, grunting wordlessly as his grip on her tightened. There was nowhere to go.

She knew that now.

“Say sorry,” he groaned, his voice ragged and desperate. 

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, arching her back. 

When he came, he held her so tight she would certainly have bruises, his cock twitching inside her as he spent himself inside her. Kissing her neck, running his hands down her back, he groaned, holding himself inside her. 

He groaned, stilling. She could feel his heartbeat, thudding against her chest. When he finally pulled out, he lowered her to the ground. Her skirt was a mess, coated in her own juices and his spend. Her ponytail was ruined beyond recognition. She was sure he had a friction burn on her shoulder from where he’d fucked into her. 

Ben tucked his cock into his pants and sighed. “There. Don’t you feel better?”

Rey said nothing. It felt like something had faded away. A hope or a dream, maybe. But a fear, too. She had been afraid to leave him. Now, she wasn’t, because she wouldn’t. 

_I’m going to make things easy for you._

Ben kissed her, gently this time. It felt almost gentle. When he pulled back, he cupped her cheek in his hand. “Don’t change your underwear for tonight. I want you to remember this.” 

There was no air in the room. Overhead, the chandelier made a gentle twinkling noise as the heat turned on. Night was falling. She didn’t bother picking up her suitcase. 

They lingered after the party, Ben introducing her to everyone he knew. 

She was declared, “lovely,” “a doll,” and “a charming creature,” by everyone who met them, and Rey didn’t miss the way they directed their words at _Ben._ Like she was a pet. Rey bristled, but Ben put his hand on her back and she went very still. Not unlike a ragdoll. So maybe they weren’t so far off, after all.

And when the dancing started, Ben pulled her onto the floor. Under the shimmering lights overhead, he looked almost too handsome to be real, his smile so loving, so gentle. He dipped his head, murmuring into her ear, “If you’re a good girl, I’ll fuck you with those panties I ripped. I’ll even let you come.” 

She had to hold onto him to stop herself from stumbling.

Ben chuckled. “What do you say?”

She closed her eyes. “Thank you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to destiniesfic for the beta read on the first half :) 
> 
> follow me on twt: https://twitter.com/ViWiWrites
> 
> hashtag for folks to use to mute is #StayingPowerFic :)


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